Mya Alabama

Anything’s possible. I drove into Spoon River with five dollars to my name, and my car broke down near McNeely Hill. As I trudged past the expensive estates, feverish with hunger, I stumbled in front of the Winter mansion. It seemed to glow and pulse with electricity. Itcalled to me. But I was barred by a gate, and no one answered the bell. Later, when I got to the town, a handsome young man struck up a conversation with me. It was Henry Winter, son of old Thomas Winter who owned the house. This chance meeting set off a chain of events, and manyyears later, all of the Winters were gone, and that huge mansion belonged only to me. I think the house knew, well before any of its occupants.